


DL 7

by bonebo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: D/s, M/M, bottom gabe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10049579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: mcreyes - "no one can hurt me like you can"





	

McCree’s favourite part about the whole thing--not the way Gabriel sighs under him, not the cries of his name that spill from his Commander’s lips, not the stolen kisses and lingering gazes when no one is watching--is how people seem to think that Gabriel is in control.

Like he doesn’t submit so beautifully--like he’s not on his knees in his quarters, his head bowed and shoulders shaking as he waits, quietly, for any orders that McCree will deign to give him. His dark eyes are heated when they dart up, wild and lustful to find McCree sprawled across his bed like a king, reclining with his hand down his unbuttoned pants and his dirty boots propped up on Gabriel’s pillow.

Their eyes meet, and McCree raises a brow; he holds Gabriel’s gaze as he pulls his cock free from his jeans, keeps staring as he starts to slowly, lazily stroke over the stiff length. He knows Gabriel desperately wants to look away, wants to look down and get a peek at McCree’s dick, the very thing he’s been lusting after for the past hour--but he also knows he wouldn’t dare, unless given permission to.

And let it never be said that McCree isn’t a merciful Dom.

“Did I say you could look at me?” he drawls, slow and deep, and it’s exactly the out Gabriel needs. His gaze darts down, immediately cowed, but McCree notices the way it not-so-slyly lingers for a moment on the throbbing flesh between his legs, and grins. 

“That’s what I thought.” His strokes resume, half-hearted and light,thumb twisting over the head; more to tease than actually satisfy himself, to show Gabriel what he cannot have. “Good boy. You like being a good boy, don’t you, Gabe?”

Gabriel nods, glancing up to watch the slide of McCree’s hand, licks his lips. “Y-yes, sir…”

“And why is that, pray tell, sweet thing?” Something glints in McCree’s eyes--something hungry, feral. Gabriel shudders to see it, and chokes on his breath as he whispers, “Because...no one can hurt me, like you can.”

 _“Good_ boy.” It comes out as a growl from between McCree’s teeth, and as he leans his head back he thinks, again, that this is his favourite part.


End file.
